Through her eyes
by ToOblivion
Summary: She sees that she can never be happy, or maybe not. A Mary Bennet story


Across the opening land of grass field, the morning light cast an amber glow over Meryton, not missing the estate lying harmoniously amidst. The cold autumn air was blessed with the blissful warmth of the sun as its idle rays shine over every minute detail of the Longbourn estate. A continuous beam of laughter threaded through the serene view, making its way from within the walls of the estate to the vast lands outside. Behind the walls, there was uncontrolled outburst of mirth, and the occasional cries of varying tones and quality.

The inhabitants of such a household were celebrating an event of a not-so-high occurrence; it was the most fortunate event of having _two_ eldest daughters married, _at once_, to gentlemen of great fortune in the church earlier. The two new husbands beamed with happiness that was possibly not known in their lives, one had his arm secured around the waist of his wife, as he conversed joyfully with his usual easy manners. The other looked strikingly solemn as he consumed the congratulatory goodwill of his boisterous mother-in-law. The elder woman was no less jovial. Her eyes were welled with tears of joy, which perhaps partially originate from her want for drama, she was crying a moment at the regret of her youngest daughter not being able to attend the wedding and laughing in another moment for the having two daughters now so well-established in a way which no other mothers would. Indeed, this was a great achievement considering that her sole aim in life was to find rich men for her unmarried daughters. The younger sister was clustering and conversing excitably to eldest married sister and her husband. The paternal figure looked equally filled with emotion as he sat on an arm chair closely observing them, looking forlornly at his favourite daughter, to be away from him soon.

All might have formed a wonderful picture of family affections, with the exception of a single misfit. If you would take a look at one corner of the parlour in the estate, you would have seen a young woman, dressed in dreary grey garbs, standing at a corner, seemingly contented in just watching the happy commotion. No hint of her thoughts could be observed, by a regular observer, in her almost blank face. The corner of her lips turned up to form an almost invisible smile that had its difficulty in surfacing in her expressions. A tinge of joy glowed only in the form of a mild gleam, masked in those everlastingly stern dark brown irises that were so used to staring back into the empty space.

She merely smiled a very slight smile, for she believed she was not capable of more.

As much as there was silent joy, there was predominant melancholy clouding her eyes and stiffening her posture. Her thoughts were, ironically, opposite. She felt no less happiness for her sisters than any other family member. Jane and Elizabeth were her most sensible sisters, definitely deserving their excellent matches.

She wished to congratulate them personally, yet found no suitable words, words were her fatal flaw, words she had painfully found out to be so vastly different from her thoughts, words which often came out stiff, cold and often offensive. And now, she had chosen to be quiet. If words could not convey her thoughts, she would prefer that silence took its place. Silence was the best remedy, the best redemption she could afford.

And the truth was often tormenting.

Through the pair of brown eyes reflected in the mirror,which she once declared to be a tool of self-indulfgence and vanity, she saw her vain self concealed under her humble apparel, her selfish and shallow character, she saw how wrong she could be in all her judgements in spite of her insistence on firm moral values. She was neither kind nor good-natured and certainly undeserving of any situation as good as her sisters'. She was contented to live with this silent modesty, or at least with conviction.

Solitude was her only solace for it offered the safety from rejection. Right from the start, there was never room for her to share a faction of their happiness.

A slight breeze wafted through the slightly ajar oak-door across the parlour, tendrils of dark hair fell from her messy bun, whipping across her face while blocking her sight. She swept the strands and fallen locks behind her ears, not willing to miss a thorough sight of this eventful day. As much she may have scorned the frivolous nature of celebrations and its association with her younger sisters and mother, she still loved her family.

"Mary, where is Mary?"

She could vaguely hear the disgruntled undertone of her mother's cheery voice. She walked briskly towards her mother, while swiftly pinning the adamant stands of messy hair blocking her face.

"Oh, what are you doing…"

Mrs Bennet was half-way through beckoning her when the mother saw the opportunity to resume her conversation with the _pompous_ man she had a few months back, declared to be intolerable.

Pulling her eyes off an enthusiastic Mrs Bennet, she closed up the gap with the crowd, cautiously avoiding any attention as she remained an awkward distance with her family. Elizabeth passed an apologetic glance to her husband as Mrs Bennet made few attempts to praise Mr Darcy of his enormous fortune, immediately after she had tried forcing him to inviting her unmarried daughters and herself to Pemberly.

A warm grasp on her hand followed by a gaudy splatter of laughter, inches by her ear, sent her back to reality. An animated Kitty pulled her towards where the Bingleys were in an excitable conversation.

"Mr Bingley promises to invite us to his new London house this Christmas! And he promises a ball, at spring, in his other estate in Derbyshire. Isn't that exciting? Lord, how I hoped that Mama would have enough for a new ball gown!"

She said nothing, as always. Kitty was never fond of expecting her answers anyway.

Her eyes strayed to Mrs Darcy. Few months ago, she would have doubted her love for Mr Darcy. However, since the time when she saw those exchanging awkward glances across the parlour, before Mr Bingley proposed to Jane, she had already known an establishing love in their flustered exchanges.

Elizabeth caught her eye, looking meaningfully at her with a sincere and almost affectionate smile. She tried smiling back, but it ended as a mere stiff twitch at the corner of her lips. Her heart had urged her to say a blessing line but her berating mind acted otherwise. As her lips parted slightly, no audible words could be heard. And now, Elizabeth had turned back to talk to Jane.

The morning was passed in this manner until the carriage was announced to be ready. The brides were showered with hugs and kisses, while they repeatedly promised to write home regularly. They stood in a row outside the estate, as the brides and their husbands exchanged niceties with each of the Bennets. She had chosen the end of the row, an insignificant spot as she watched the warm exchanges. However, she was not to be missed, when it was her turn, she was met with a light but cordial hug from Elizabeth, civil handshakes from the two husbands. She waited patiently for her eldest sister as Jane was given most affectionate exchanges from her mother and Kitty.

What she had not expected was a very tight hug from her Jane, for she was anything but close to Jane. She was never used to touchy affection, let alone when Jane had whispered, "Mary, I would have to depend on you to write most diligently to me."

Of all correspondents at home, she was positive she would be the last to be thought of. Jane had _requested _her to be her correspondent. She could not tell why but a slight part of her was swelling in a feeling of lightness, even as the couples drove off.

Of course Mary Bennet did not know she had just felt as simple an emotion as happiness, for it was so foreign to her.


End file.
